


Lucky Find

by Amoe_Raven



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Alternate Universe - Reverse Petstuck (Homestuck), Gen, Slice of Life, tags added as needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 10:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13715958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amoe_Raven/pseuds/Amoe_Raven
Summary: After a FLARP session, Vriska Serket finds a small human, a species usually viewed as pets. Taking care of a human will be a new challenge, but surely not enough of one to trouble her, right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My second Homestuck fic ever. This should be fun.

You name is Vriska Serket, and you are less than absolutely sure you can handle this new undertaking.

You were walking through the field after another session of FLARP, when you heard a piercing cry. After ~~hurriedly~~ calmly checking your surroundings to make sure it wasn't some lusus trying to score food for it's charge or was otherwise hungry, you began to examine your environment more closely, to locate the source of the sound. After a minute, you narrowed it down to a ditch covered in foliage. After cutting it away with a sword retrieved from your sylladex, you discovered what had caused the noise.

There was a small human grub - you can't tell its age, but you'd guess about 2 sweeps - laying on a mattress made out of foliage. It appeared to be sleeping, and without any sopor. What was it, dumb? Though, on the other hand, you don't really know much about humans, beyond that they were pets often only adopted by other nobles. Maybe they don't need sopor? Regardless, it appeared to be having a nightmare, judging by the small moans and screams it was making. The sound caused a new wellspring of pity to well up in your chest.

Being as posessed of iron will as you are, you squashed it. You couldn't take it to your hive. You had a hard enough time feeding your own lusus to act as one for another, after all. This conviction had lasted you a good few feet before the grub had let out another pitiful cry. D8mm8t, you had thought, and then went back and grabbed the grub up. It had stopped crying pretty much immmediately, causing much of the pity to vanish. When it's not crying, you can't help but think as you look at it,  its pretty cute, for a human gru8. Then, you went off to find the scuttlebuggy.

Which brings you to where you are now: Driving home in the scuttlebuggy, human grub buckled into the seat beside you, and wondering what you had just done.

===> Skip to home already.

* * *

The road leading to your hive stops just shy of the cliff the hive is situated upon. Carpenter droids had long ago carved a staircase through the cliff-face leading to your hive to make travel easier. Normally, the staircase isn't that difficult to climb, but combined with all the work you did FLARPing tonight, and it's enough to cause you to be _slightly_ tired by the time you reach the top. You pause for a minute, both to catch your breath, and to inspect the grub. It seemed to still be asleep - how heavy a sleeper is this kid? Is that unusual for humans? - despite the hours-long drive and walk up the staircase.

"Welcome to your new home, little gru8." You say aloud to the small human clutched in your arms. In response, it lets out a small mewl that causes your bloodpusher to tighten with some emotion that you can only describe as similar to what you felt for Terezi long ago, before everything had gone to shit. They're 8arely a sweep or two old, and asleep, 8ut they're still almost as good at manipul8tion as me. You think as you walk up to the large cerulean-colored doors of your hive. You open them with your metal arm, the other, fleshy (Because, no matter how deep a sleeper the grub is, the cold metal would probably wake them up) arm clutching the grub. You stride through the entrance hall, up the central stairway, and into your respiteblock.

You aren't sure how human biology interfaces with sopor, so instead of placing the wiggler in the recuperacoon, you grab a splaysack, drag it over to where you could see it from the husktop, and placed the grub gently on it. With the human situated for now, and nothing else to do tonight beside give your lusus her lunch, which can wait for a bit more, you sit down at the husktop, turn it on, and begin to schoolfeed on humans.

> Human

Woah, way to many results. Let's narrow that down. What's the little gru8s most pressing need...

> Human food

A few less hits. You find what seems to be a credible site and click on it.

> A pet human can eat and will eat lots of things! It can safely consume most of the milder foods that you would eat, but do be careful about heat. Humans can be susceptible to many of the diseases that lurk in raw meat.

Easy enough, you'll just have to make extra portions of whatever you decide to eat. You decide to search grubs themselves next.

> Human grubs

Only a few results pop up this time. You click a couple links.

> The human reproductive process is very strange. Instead of a mother grub, human females develop the grub inside themselves. The grub spends about a third of a sweep developing, the human grub emerges from the female.

Weird. You remember certain subspecies of lusus reproducing similarly, and you think you remember reading about other races that the Empire had exterminated in some books Aranea had lent you. The other link contained information about human growth.

> For humans, there is no clearly designated stage in the life cycle where they pupate. Instead, they will continue to get bigger, and will begin a stage called "puberty" when approximately six sweeps old. Through "puberty", the human will mature into a suitable candidate for another human to pail with. This stage ends after about two sweeps.

Hmm. If your guess about the grubs age is correct, then you should have about four sweeps to prepare and do more research. Judging by some pictures, you're new wiggler is a male human.

The wiggler begins trying to move around on the splaysack, only to find that's sopor-filled composition causes it to sink further into the 'sack. You roll the chair over to in front of the splaysack and inspect the wiggler closer. A mop of black hair covered his head, and overly long bangs blocked your view of his light-blue eyes in some places. You make a note to yourself to check out the human hemospectrum later. If they have one, that is. So far, despite similar appearences, trolls and humans appear to be completely different biologically.

"Hello, little gru8. Do you speak Alternian?" You ask the boy, softly as possible to avoid scaring him.

"Yes." The boy says, eyes looking around the room, apparently scanning his surroundings.

"Alright then. Do you have a name?" You ask next.

He shakes head no. You give a sigh.

"Well, we'll figure out something later. In the meantime..." You draw yourself up into a pose, and the yet-to-be-named wiggler lets out a giggle.

" _I_ am Vriska Serket, your new owner."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said earlier, I've only ever made one other homestuck fic ever, and that was years ago, back when (I fancy) I was a much worse writer then I am now. That fic didn't concern itself with any of the usual trappings of homestuck, like, say, typing quirks. This is also the first time I've ever implemented any serious coding into a work.
> 
> In short, if I've messed up something, somewhere, please leave a comment. Hell, please leave a comment even if you don't see some grievous error.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hello Vriska!" The grub says cheerfully, as if you hadn't just proclaimed ownership of him, and holds out his small hand. You hold out a finger, and he grabs it with both tiny hands and gives it a shake. Your bloodpusher does that tightening thing again.By the blind prophets, you think, this pupa is adorable. You shake your head to dispel the thought, then return your attention to the pupa. First things first, need to make sure he isn't about to starve.

"Are you hungry?" You ask. He shakes his head up and down so fast you're slightly afraid he might injure his thinkpan.  "Yes, Miss!"  He said excitedly. He began moving around again, trying once more to escape the confines of the splaysack. You grab him under both arms, lift him into the air, and then place him back on the ground.

The momentary venture into aeronautics apparently amazed the little grub, judging by the stupified look on his face.  "Let's do that again!" He says, huge grin plastered across his face and all thoughts of hunger apparently forgotten. Note to self: Just lift the Wiggler into the air if you ever need to distract him. You think to yourself. "Maybe later. For now, let's just get to the mealblock." You say aloud.

You start to walk, only to stop when the wiggler doesn't follow you. You look to him, to see him holding his hand out, grin still stretched over his face. You roll your eyes, grumble, and grab the hand. Then you walk off, the boy happily following you now. He stares, fascinated, at the horde of objects you've got littering the halls from sweeps of FLARPing. Sets of armor and weapons taken from losers, artwork plundered from sinking ships and destroyed hives, maps leading to recovered treasure, and other things.

"Where did you get all this stuff?" He asks, awe audible in his voice. "Through sweeps and sweeps of wildly successful FLARP campaigns, little gru8." You say, no small amount of pride in your voice. A look of confusion crosses his face. "FLARP?" He asks. He's never heard of FLARP?  You think to yourself.

Did his last owner not play or something? Sure, FLARP isn't _that_ popular, but tons of trolls play it. Maybe he didn't _have_ an owner? No, wait, that doesn't make sense. _Someone_ taught him Alternian, after all. You realize that you've been standing silently in the middle of a hall for the last few seconds. "It's a great game popular with some great trolls. I'll tell you all a8out it later; For now, let's get to the mealblock." You say, walking again.

After a few minutes, you reach the mealblock. It's a large room, with a hunger trunk in one corner, the crisprange, a counter running along the center, a table and some chairs, and some cabinets around. Nothing special or that ostentatious, but the grub still seems impressed anyway. "Go take a seat at the table. I'll find something for us to eat." You say to him. The wiggler does as you ask, taking a seat near one end of the table.

Meanwhile, you search for some food. You begin by looking through the cabinets, but nothing there grabs your cullinary interest, so you move to the hunger trunk and begin looking through the meal vault. You find some leftover grubloaf in a package, and some biscuits in another, and you haven't had either in a while, so you decide to make them. You stick the biscuits onto a sheet pan and shove them into the crisprange, and place the grubloaf on a pan on the top. 

You set the temperature, and then grab a couple plates and place them on the counter. You turn to walk to the table when you think you hear something on the wind. It sounds like something rather large is screeching. ...Yeah, your lusus should be getting hungry right about now. Well, looks like you need to go handle this rather quickly. 

"Hey, gru8, I need to go feed my lusus really quickly. Can you stay right there?" You ask, moving towards the door. The grub smiles, two teeth too large for his mouth prominent. The sight was strangely endearing. "Sure, miss Vriska!" He says excitedly, kicking his feet back and forth. You grin back, and then leave, running as the door closes.

It doesn't take long to reach the staircase that goes directly into the cliff, where entire subalternian rooms have been carved to hold treasure, and that, more importantly, holds the entrance to the canyon where your lusus lives. You run down the steps two or three at a time until you come to the landing, and turn towards the entrance. The entrance opened directly onto the jutting rock overlooking the canyon.

Yeah, you definitely need to do something before the wiggler accidentally wanders out there for your lusus to eat him. You walk out onto the outcropping of rock, to see that your lusus has climbed up to it, probably looking for you. The great spider calms down when she sees you (Is that because she sees your fine, or because she knows you have her food?). "Sorry I'm l8! Had to deal with something. Here's your food!" You say, retrieving the mentioned pile of corpses from your sylladex.

You shatter the Magic 8-Ball on the ground, and the pile of corpses you'd collected after tonight's FLARP session immediately spring out at full size. Your lusus lets out a little chitter of happiness and begins eating. You turn to head back upstairs, when you hear your lusus give another inquisitive chitter. You turn back around to see her staring at you with all 8 eyes. If you didn't know better, you'd say she was concerned.

Another (concerned?) chitter. "Yes, I'm fine. Just...I have a pet now." An inquisitive chittering sound. "A pet? It's sorta like a lusus, except the troll is supposed to care for it." A chittering sound you can't decipher the tone of. "Yeah, he's upstairs in my hive. I would really appreciate it if you didn't eat him or something."

Chitter. "Uh, lighter-colored skin. Black hair. Cute blue eyes. Adorable teeth." Another chitter that you can only describe as knowing. "Yeah, anyways, I've got to get back upstairs." You say. Your lusus turns back to her food, curiosity(?) apparently satisfied. You go back to the stairs, and begin racing up them.

A few minutes later, and you're approaching the mealblock doors. Something stops you before you can open them though. You can hear a low groaning sound coming from the other side. "Gru8????????" You ask as you slowly push the door open, an emotion that is definitely only concern about a possible unknown intruder in your hive twisting your acid tract. The grub is lying face-down on the table, groaning in pain. He looks up as you enter. "Vriska? I-" A hacking cough tears its way out of his chest. "-think i'm sick."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter. Yay! If you find any error, please post about it in a comment. Hell, even if you don't find one, post a comment anyways.
> 
> |Troll Terminology|
> 
> Mealblock = kitchen.
> 
> Hunger trunk = refrigerator.
> 
> Meal vault = freezer.
> 
> Acid tract = stomach.


	3. Chapter 3

You could swear that your bloodpusher freezes in place at the sight. Your pet sitting there, head face down on the mealblock table, groaning in pain, apparently sick as a barkbeast. The scene will probably appear in your nightmares the next time you accidentally fall asleep at the husktop.  What the fuck h8pp8n8d!?  You think, panic clogging your bloodpusher. 

You'd only been gone for a few minutes! He had been perfectly fine before! Was this from his stint as homeless!? Oh what are you saying, of course it was from then. You didn't even know where he'd been before you found him in that ditch. It could be any number of things. Hell, it could be something he picked up while with his former owner that was only showing up now.

You run over to the wiggler, and, for lack of any better idea of what to do, pick him up and clutch him to your chest. You weren't afraid of getting sick. Frankly, Trolls had ridiculously great immune systems. Of course, this had been ensured by culling any mutants or those with defects, but you can't win a game of FLARP without killing a few pupa's.

This did, of course, have the drawback of leaving you without any medicine you could use to help the wiggler. Your attention slams back onto the wiggler as he wraps his arms around your neck. For a second, you're frozen in place by dreadful anticipation of deepseated instincts, created by sweeps of FLARP campaigns and inherited from your ancient ancestors, kicking in to cause you to do something you might just regret. Thankfully, nothing happens.

You can feel the wiggler shivering in your arms and groans rumbling up his chest. He's sick, and I have no idea what to fucking do! What were all those sweeps of schoolfeeding for!? You think to yourself. Even during the sweeps Aranea had lived with you before moving out to her own hive had not given you any idea of what to do in this situation.

With no better Idea of what to do, you decide to head back upstairs to your respiteblock. You exit the mealblock, making sure to turn off the crisprange as you do. The grubloaf is left sizzling in the pan, though. As you march upstairs, wiggler held tight to you, you notice the first few rays of Alternia's sun starting to spear down.  Oh great, and now the day is beginning. You think to yourself.

You reach your respite block, and lacking hands to use, kick open the door. You walk over to the splaysack, and collapse down onto it. The wiggler, held in your lap, lets out another hacking cough that causes your bloodpusher to feel like it's being torn in two.  "Don't worry, little grub. It's going to be fine. It'll pass. Just hold on till Miss Vriska figures out what to do." You say, gently.

What the hell are you going to do? What do you do with a pet that's sick? You retrieve your palmhusk from your sylladex.

> what to do with sick pet? 

You click on the first thing you see.

> If your pet is sick, then the best thing to do would be to take it to the veterinarian. 

...Oh, duh, the vet. Why didn't you think of that first? ...Wait, 'veterinarian'. That's, that's what Tavros was schoolfeeding to be, wasn't it.? You frantically activate your palmhusk's trollian app.

arachnidsGrip [AG]  began trolling adiosToreador [AT]

AG: Tavros, are you th8r8!?  
AG: D8mn8, are you 8lre8dy 8sl88p!?  
AG: Troll me as soon as you wake up, Toreador.   
AG: This is serious.

arachnidsGrip [AG]  ceased trolling adiosToreador [AT]  


You're very tempted to throw the palmhusk out the nearest window, but damn if you don't need a distraction. You scroll through your chumproll while gently whispering reassurances to the grub, trying to find someone acceptable to chat with. After a few moments, you settle on the jade-colored name on the 'roll. Fussyfangs is a Jadeblood with a freaking Mother Grub for a lusus. She must know something that could help, right? 

arachnidsGrip [AG] began trolling grimAuxiliatrix [GA]

AG: H8y fussyf8ngs!  
AG: Wh8t 8re you up to this morning?   
GA: I Believe I Could Ask You The Same Question   
GA: I Am Not Certain I Can Recall You Ever Being Up This Late   
AG: I d8n't kn8w what you m88n.   
AG: I'm s8re I've trolled y88 th8s l8 b8f8r8.   
GA: ...   
GA: That Is An Extraordinary Amount Of 8's   
GA: Is Something Wrong   
AG: Tavros is a v8t r8ght?   
GA: A Vet   
GA: I Believe So, Why   
GA: ...   
GA: Wait, Have You Gotten A Pet   
AG: Yes, a hum8n 8ne.   
AG: H8's sick.   
AG: Hence my need to know whether Tavros has the skills to help him.   
GA: Well, The Last I Heard, Tavros Did Indeed Run A Successful Veterinary Practice  
GA: I Doubt He's Awake Right Now Though   
AG: Yeah, I know. I left him a message to troll me as soon as he wakes up, but what am I supposed to do about the human until then?   
GA: What Have You Done So Far   
AG: So far? Mostly hold him and tell him it'll be alright.   
GA: Hmm What Are His Symptoms   
AG: Very bad cough. Shaking. His head feels hot.   
AG: ...And apparently vomiting. Ugh.   
GA: I Believe I Remember Reading That Honey Mixed With Water Could Help With Coughs Do You Have Any   
AG: I think I have some somewhere in the mealblock.   
GA: You Should Go And See   
GA: For The High Temperature Maybe A Cold Cloth   
GA: That's All I Can Think Of At The Moment Sorry   
AG: No, it's plenty. Honey + water and a cold rag. Got it.   
AG: Thanks.   
GA: Troll Me If You Require Any More Assistance   
AG: I will. See ya later, fussyf8ngs! 

arachnidsGrip [AG] ceased trolling grimAuxiliatrix [GA]

You set the palmhusk down beside you on the splaysack, and take another look at the grub held in your arms. He's curled around one arm, whimpering - in pain? From nightmares? You don't know but you wish you did so you could help - and every so often he gives this terrible cough that causes your bloodpusher to stop up. Midway through the conversation with Kanaya he had jumped up and ran over to the dross coffer, which he had vomited into. 

You'd gone to grab a wash cloth to wipe off the...remnants, and then had taken him and resumed your position on the spraysack, with the coffer nearby in case he needed it again. You had been panicking, but with a goal in mind, you were feeling a lot calmer. You grab the grub with one arm, clutch him to your chest, and depart from the respiteblock to find some honey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Frantically tries to think of Alternian-ish name for veterinarian*
> 
> *Fails*
> 
> Fuck it, let's just go with veterinarian.
> 
> Also the first full conversation with another Troll. Hope I portrayed Kanaya correctly.
> 
> If you see any errors, please post them in a comment. Please leave a comment even if you don't find any.
> 
> |Troll Terminology|
> 
> Dross coffer = trash bin, garbage can, waste basket, etc;


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that it's taken so long to post this chapter. I've been beating my head against the draft of another fic for the past few days.

It turns out that you do have some honey, stashed all the way in the back of a cabinet. You manage to retrieve it while only knocking a few things down onto the floor. You hop from the chair you had been standing on onto the floor.

You turn towards the grub, who you had left sitting in a chair. He's cradling the arm of the chair for support, his little hands having, somehow, turned milky white from the pressure. You stare at the phenomenon for a moment, fascinated and a little horrified.

Troll blood ran thick and dark. Even if you grabbed something as tight as you could, your skin would remain a dark shade of grey, unlike how the wiggler's hands looked. ...Unless it wasn't because he was grabbing the arm so hard. Oh _fuck_ , what if it was another symptom of the disease!?

You retrieve your palmhusk from the recess of a pocket and check the time, only to find that it's still early morning. Fuck. You place your palmhusk back in your pocket and sigh. You don't think your bloodpusher can take much more worrying.

You go to the sink and, while placing the container of honey down on the counter, open a cabinet. You grab a glass cup from it, close the cabinet, and then fill the cup with water from the sink. You grab the honey and let about 8 drops fall into the water before you put it back down. You grab a spoon and stir the contents of the cup till they look well mixed.

You throw the spoon into the sink to wash later. With the cup of honeywater in hand, you begin to walk over to the grub, but then, feeling the cup, decide it might be a little cold. You take a sip, and almost immediately grimmace. Yep, Too cold. 

You place the glass in the microwave, and let it heat up for ten seconds. Then you take another sip. Better, you decide.  "Grub? Are you awake?" You ask, kneeling down to about eyelevel with him.

His lookstubs roll around to look at you. "Mhmm." He wimpers out, before having a small coughing fit. Your bloodpusher aches again, but you ignore it long enough to offer up the glass.

"Here, grub. This should help with that cough. Can you drink it?" You ask him. After a moment, he manages to weakly nod his head. You place the cup against his lips and tilt it over slightly, allowing it to dribble into his mouth. He manages to gulp it down after a second.

Soon, he's managed to drink the entire thing. You go and refill the glass, just in case he needs it again. After a second's thought, you stuff the cup in your sylladex. Then, you go and pick the grub up, his arms uncurling from around the arm of the chair as you do. You exit the mealblock, and begin walking to your second livingblock.

Your 'second livingblock' had originally been Aranea's respiteblock, but when she moved out, you renovated it. You had always disliked the original; too large and spacious (what had wiggler-you even been thinking seriously), and you were always tripping over some piece of treasure or whatever artifact was in the room. Aranea's respiteblock had once been just as, if not more, hazardous, but she'd taken all her books with her when she left.

You'd replaced them all almost immediately with the library's worth of books she'd left you. They added...coziness to the place. Then, you'd added a loungeplank, some more splaysacks, and a TV, and the block had been complete. You figure it makes as good a place as any to care for a sick pet.

Aranea had lived in her own little mini-hive, a short tower, connected to the main hive by a small corridor. You cross this corridor in a few seconds, and then open the door to the livingblock. Stacks of books line the walls of the room, and the rays of the morning sun try vainly to pierce all the way through the curtains you'd set up ages ago. You walk over to the loungeplank, and collapse onto it.

You stare at the little grub held in your arms. You've only had him for a day, and yet, you have to admit to yourself, you are already so attached to him. Little gru8s a 8orn manipul8er. You think to yourself, somewhat fondly.

Really, a pet worthy of the Serkets. Then the grub lets out a cough, thankfully not as bad as any of his previous ones, and your good mood dissolves instantly. You hold a hand up to his forehead to check his temperature, and find it still as hot as when you'd felt it before. You remember Kanaya's advice, and, leaving the grub on the loungeplank with the glass of waterhoney nearby in case he needs it, go towards a stairwell that leads to the bottom levels of the tower. 

After a few minutes, you manage to find the ablutionblock. You grab a cloth from a rack and wet it with cold water from the sink. Cold cloth in hand, you walk back upstairs to the livingblock. Upon reaching the 'block, you find that the grub has laid down across the loungeplank. The glass cup beside him is a little emptier then when you left.

You sit back down on the bit of space left on the loungeplank and lift the little grub onto your lap. You slap the cold cloth against his forehead and hold it there. With the rag firmly in place, you settle down and begin looking for the remote to the TV. You finally find it in between a cushion. 

You turn the TV on and idly rub an eye. You haven't been asleep in over a night now, but your hesitant to go to sleep because the grub might need you. It seems there is only one thing to do. You need to stay awake long enough to get the grub to Tavros. You sigh as you rub the grubs head. It's going to be a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you spot any errors, post them in a comment. Even if you don't see any erros, comment anyway!
> 
> |Troll Terminology|
> 
> Lookstubs = The eyes
> 
> Loungeplank = Couch and/or sofa


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It LIIVVEES! Sorry it took so long for me to update this. Have a lot of ideas that I need to write down to make room for this fic.

You snap into consciousness as your palmhusk begins blaring an obnoxious tune. You're initially a little groggy, and wonder why you're in Aranea's old place, when you feel the weight lying across your midsection.  Oh yeah, you think blearily,  I have a pet, don't I? Then you realize the tune is still going on, and remember what it was for.  Oh fuck, I have a _sick_ pet!

You snatch the palmhusk from where you'd left it on the table and check the time. Early afternoon. You'd managed to track down the dork's business before you fell asleep. It was ridiculously easy. The Toreadorks are lucky that they have so many powerful friends and are too wimpy to make any real enemies, or they would've been dead before they were three sweeps old. Well, Tavros would have been, at least. Can't say you really know much about his brother, aside from what Meenah and Aranea have told you.

Anyways, you found that their business was, luckily, located in a stemcluster nearby. Similarly fortunately, they should have opened about an hour or so ago. You grab the grub by the collar of the white shirt he's wearing - and by the Prophets you **will** work on his fashion sense after this is over. Seriously grub, _white?_ \- and slide him onto the loungeplank.

You grab the glass of honey + water mixture (You should probably come up with a better name for it, but hopefully you won't need to, soon enough) and inspect it. Half-empty. You look over to the grub, and raise a palm to his forehead. He does seem to be in better condition then he was this morning, but it probably wouldn't be a good idea to leave without some way of helping if he starts coughing again. 

You hoist the grub over one shoulder, stash the glass in the sylladex, and exit the room. You walk across the corridor connecting the tower to the main hive, and arrive at the front doors a few minutes after. You set the grub down on a chair, make sure he isn't about to fall off or something like a total dork (Because you have a feeling that's what would happen if he were a bit more active) and go to the kitchen. 

There, you refill the glass of honeywater and warm it up before stuffing it back into the sylladex. You decide to throw the container of honey in there too, just in case. You grab a rag and wet it in the sink, and put that away in the sylladex as well. You _think_ it'll be just as cold when/if you get it out again. You don't really know a lot about the sylladex or how it works, beyond that the brightest minds in the empire had created it generations ago.

The supplies you think you'll need gathered, you leave for the entrance hall. You find the grub still asleep on the chair and hoist him over your shoulder You walked out of the house, and, making sure to shift the wiggler's position, down the passageway to the car. You open the passenger-side door and strap the grub into the seat. You take a moment to inspect the unconscious figure.

Really deep sleeper, isn't he? You think to yourself. It had bee a couple hours since you had woke up, and that had been because of the alarm you'd set on the phone. He'd slept through that, the walk to the entrance, and then the walk down the stair way.  Something else to be concerned about?

You take out the palmhusk and pull up a map. After making sure it is the correct one, you input the Toreador veterinary practice's address, and watch the route there appear. With seemingly everything ready, and the grub securely seated, you start up the flame-patterned scuttlebuggy, and blast off down the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you spot any errors, post about it in a comment. If you don't see any errors, comment anyway!
> 
> |Troll Terminology|
> 
> Stemcluster = city


End file.
